


To be Alone with You

by DarknessAroundUs



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bounty Hunter Jughead Jones, COVID 19 Influenced, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Investigator Betty Cooper, Specultive fiction, Speed Dating, but not actually mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: In the future everything is different. Particularly dating.A prompt fill for the Riverdale Bingo square - Speed Dating.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 51
Kudos: 138
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Riverdale Bingo Winter 2020





	To be Alone with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EarthLaughsInFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthLaughsInFlowers/gifts).



> This is a gift for the wonderful EarthLaughsInFlowers. 
> 
> Thanks to the brillent KittiLee for beta-ing this. 
> 
> This is for the speed dating square of Riverdale Bingo, and I was really struggling with this prompt. It was one of my least favorite. Then a friend of mine was complaining on FB about how hard dating has become during the COVID-19 situation and it got me thinking about how speed dating might work in the very distant future scarred by a series of pandemics, so here I am suddenly writing speculative fiction.

_I'd swim across Lake Michigan  
I'd sell my shoes  
I'd give my body to be back again  
In the rest of the room  
To be alone with you_

-Sufjan Stevens, To be Alone with You

Dating has always struck Betty as absurd. 

Maybe not dating the way it used to work, when her grandparents were alive; when you could bump into the love of your life at a park and go to the movies, share popcorn and sip soda, which is how Betty’s maternal grandparents actually met. 

Even in her parent’s generation all that was impossible. But at least back then you could still meet your immediate neighbors in person. Anyone within a three block radius was considered an eligible candidate for relationships.

The government was not involved back then, although as Betty’s mother liked to put it, “the selection was limited”. Then the pandemic of 2510 happened and everything shifted again. School became something that was virtual, work became digital and the only people you were allowed to see in the flesh was your immediate family. 

Currently, in 2535 dating works like this - once you’ve moved out of your parents apartment, a DNA test was shipped to your new apartment. You spat on a strip, mailed it back, and then a few days later the government added you to a specifically chosen online dating pool. 

No one but the government knows how the pools work, only that there are millions of pools, each containing thousands of citizens. 

You can only date in your assigned pool. Although that is far from the only limitation, or even the most significant one.

As far as Betty is concerned the real issue is that you are only allowed to ask three questions. These three questions are the only thing listed on your “dating profile”. Not even a picture or your gender is allowed. 

People find ways around the rules of course, by asking the right, or the wrong questions. But it’s still very limiting because you have to choose the one person you are going to spend the rest of your life with, the only person other than your parents, siblings, or children, that you will ever touch, based on their three questions, and their answers to your three questions.

If it was up to Betty, she’d die an old maid, alone in her perfectly serviceable, single bed apartment. 

She has good friends, even if she only ever sees them in holographic form, and she has a career she loves, investigating the history of everyone who wants to run for public office (in a roundabout way, Betty works for the government she occasionally hates). 

But Betty has already been swimming, or more accurately treading water, in her dating pool for 4 years and 352 days, and now the government is forcing her out. Now she has just four days to pick a husband or a wife. 

Betty’s never even bothered looking at the questions of others before. She set her own questions up years ago, it was one of the initial requirements, but she’s glad that they still reflect her after all this time.

Her questions are as follows:

What do you put in your coffee?  
How do you feel about children?  
If you had to be one famous female for a day, past or present, who would it be?

Over the years, almost a thousand people have answered these questions, but most of them have long ago found their spouses and passed out of the system. 

Their answers are still on the site but their corresponding questions are redacted, covered in black. 

Now that she’s being forced to choose, Betty focuses on the most recent answers belonging to people still in the system. There are twenty five to choose from. Most people Betty discovers are a fan of the long winded answers. Using up every single character the government allows them to answer with. 

However one person’s answers stand out for their brevity and theoretical compatibility. Those answers are as follows.

Nothing.  
Eventually yes. Currently no.  
Nellie Bly, or maybe Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Fuck, this is a hard question. 

Betty likes these answers. She suspects that the answerer is a female because of how enthusiastically they responded to question three, and she’s never thought of her future partner as a she, but Betty’s not opposed to the idea. 

Betty connects with the Answerer enough to click through their questions which are as follows.

What is your ideal meal?  
If you could only read or only write, no exceptions, which one would you choose?  
What book do you love the most (be honest)?

Betty took a long time formulating her answers. Although in the end, perfectionist that she was, she wasn’t exactly happy with them. The answers were:

A milkshake, grilled cheese, and fries.  
Reading of course. If one had not read, one would be a terrible writer. What would be the point?  
Probably _The Golden Compass_. I’ve read better books as an adult but the books that informed me the most were the ones I read as a child. They are part of who I am as a person.

Betty’s mother Alice would have problems with the first answer (“Too many calories Elizabeth”) and the last one (“How low brow”) but Betty did not care. She certainly did not want to marry anyone like her mother. 

Two hours after Betty submitted her answers, a ding on her screen announced that the match had been approved by both parties and that she was to meet her new life partner tomorrow, at her (or rather their) new address.

A pod picks Betty up in the morning. The journey takes over an hour. Betty’s never been this far south before, but the city below her looks the same as the part she grew up in. 

She’s deposited unceremoniously on the fourth floor of a large building, a little newer then her former home. She rolls her two suitcases inside. Everything she owns is contained in those two suitcases.

The spacious three bedroom apartment is empty, not of items, (it like all apartments is fully furnished), but of people. Whoever Betty’s partner is, they are not here yet.

Betty takes this time to tour the space. It’s nicely appointed, with a large sectional and a good stove. This is not unexpected. 

The government expects compliance in all things, and to support that compliance, it supports the people that serves them. Particularly people with demanding jobs like Betty’s. 

She can even see three trees from the living room window which must mean something. It's a luxury to be able to see nature. A real gift.

The bedrooms are almost identical, the only difference between them being window placement and the positioning of the furniture.

Betty wonders which room her new partner will prefer. Will they expect to share one right away? 

When Betty’s friend’s got matched, years ago now, they took to their partners immediately, sharing rooms from the first night on and often having children within nine months. The idea of moving swiftly makes Betty’s stomach clench. 

That’s when the apartment announces a second person has entered and Betty makes her way to the entryway to see a tall man with dark curly hair standing in the doorway. He is dressed identically to her, the same light gray jumpsuit.

He’s the first person she’s seen in the flesh in almost five years, and even though he’s a complete stranger, she’s overwhelmed with the urge to hug him. But she can tell by his posture, shoulders back, arms folded, that this is something he wouldn’t want. 

“Hello,” she says, “I’m Betty.”

His eyes are blue, his gaze more approachable than his stance, “I’m Jughead.”

She knows better than to ask what kind of name that is. She doesn’t want to inadvertently insult his cultural heritage. That happens enough to her friend Sweet Pea for Betty to never do that to anyone.

He’s handsome, good looking in a classic way, but clearly reserved, wary. Betty didn’t expect this. 

“Come in,” Betty says, as if this is normal, as if he is entering her apartment, rather than theirs. If all goes well they will spend the rest of their lives here. If it doesn’t, well Betty would rather not think about that.

Jughead picks up two heavy bags and hauls them inside. 

“I’m going to unpack first. Have you chosen a room?” Jughead asks.

Betty shakes her head, and Jughead trudges into the first one with his bags. She wonders if he wants her to follow him in with her own stuff or if he expects her to choose another room. 

Veronica spoke of clicking into place with Toni. There is no clicking here. 

Betty rolls her bags into her own room, unpacking efficiently. She’s only brought a few photographs, her other government issued clothes, including the ceremonial dress she’s never had a reason to wear, and her few most beloved physical books, the ones her father handed down to her.

When she comes out of her room, Jughead’s door is closed. It’s almost dinner time, so she throws together a simple pasta dish. Her shoulders feel tense. She’s always thought of herself as easy to get along with. What if that’s not the case?

Jughead remains absent through the preparation of the meal and the setting of the table. Betty hopes he’s not one of those men who doesn’t expect to help with chores. If he is, she’ll straighten him out quickly enough, she supposes. 

“I’m sorry” are the first words out of Jughead’s mouth before he sits down. “It’s been a long time since I’ve properly met anyone new.”

“That’s true for me as well,” Betty offers, setting a plate full of penne down in front of Jughead. 

“You seem better at it,” Jughead says quietly.

“My mother was very strict about appearances.”

“My mother was not there at all.”

Betty’s shocked by that. She wonders if his mother passed away at a young age. After all, once a citizen is paired there’s no way to leave, divorce is a thing of the past. The minute Jughead entered this apartment their relationship was irreversible. 

Jughead doesn’t volunteer any details about his mother and Betty doesn’t feel comfortable asking. Instead she watches as Jughead digs into his food, clearly enjoying it. 

“I can cook too,” Jughead offers, about halfway through his dish.

“Good,” Betty answers easily. Because it’s clear that Jughead’s still adjusting to talking, Betty asks, “What do you do for a living?” 

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

Betty almost falls off her chair. It’s one of the few positions that involve actual travel, actual encounters with other human beings, albeit only criminals.

It’s a highly competitive position. One Betty herself had been curious about, only her mother had talked her out of it. Perhaps they can see three trees from their apartment because of his job, not hers.

“Wow. So you travel?”

“A few months a year.”

Betty can’t help but feel a little relieved at the thought of a little alone time. This first year particularly will be an adjustment.

“Have you caught anyone famous?” Betty asks. Bounty hunters make the news all the time for that reason.

“Last year I caught Hal Cooper.” Jughead looks a little smug when he says it. 

That name takes Betty’s breath away. “He’s my uncle,” she manages to say, “Though I’ve never met him.”

“Oh.” Jughead looks nervous. Like he accidentally stuck his foot in his mouth, when in reality the situation is not that big a deal. Hal means very little to Betty. It’s a strange coincidence more than anything.

“It’s fine. My father never even spoke about him,” Betty offers. It’s true after all. Hal courted her mother before her father did, and it hadn’t ended well, even before Hal became a known killer.

“What do you do?” Jughead asks. His face looks more open now, his body relaxed in the chair, legs jutting out.

“I research the background of politicians before they can even apply to run for office.”

“Please tell me you didn’t research Colm Trent?”

Betty laughs, because she does in fact know the person who investigated Colm Trent, and they were no longer an investigator. The job she had didn’t allow for mistakes, at least not ones on the scale of missing a potential politician’s affiliation with extremist groups. 

“No, but my first job was to clear Bert Humpry.” Bert Humpry is next in line to be Prime Minister. If Betty had messed up all those years ago, billions would pay, herself and Jughead included.

Jughead smiles, “I did vote for him.”

“Me too.” 

It’s good but not entirely surprising that they align politically. Betty had long suspected that the pools were divided this way. 

It feels strange after that moment of connection to revert back to silence, but they do. At first Betty suspects Jughead’s just not a talker, but then a day later he catches her watching an old movie and he won’t shut up about the actors, the director, even the lighting.

She learns that while Jughead isn’t comfortable talking about himself, he’s very happy to talk about the media and food he enjoys. 

They agree on most books and many tv-shows, although their taste in music is completely incompatible. 

They are still not always comfortable around each other. Betty’s found that Jughead’s hesitation to talk about himself has caused her to be more reticent as well. 

Their schedules are naturally different. Jughead’s gone sometimes for a few days, which feels strange to Betty who never leaves the apartment, and has never known anyone who does. But most days Betty eats breakfast alone, eats lunch with the late rising Jughead, and then he makes her a mid afternoon coffee and they collaborate on dinner.

After a few weeks, Betty realizes that she’s comforted by his presence, although the only time their skin has touched since moving in together was when she bumped into him on her way to the kitchen for a midnight glass of water. Jughead had been fully awake, but Betty had been halfway asleep. 

When Veronica calls to ask about the situation, Betty finds herself at a loss for words. She likes Jughead as a friend at the very least, and she’s sure he feels the same way about her, but the idea that their pairing will become romantic feels absurd. 

Not because she doesn’t want to be with him that way. She feels pulled towards him when they share the sofa. Betty’s had too many dreams involving his body to count. It would be mortifying if he ever found out, because she suspects he does not feel that way about her. 

Maybe she’s wrong, but she feels like if he had, he would have reached out to take her hand on the couch by now. Instead there’s always a foot gap between them.

It all begins to shift three months in, when he’s sent off on his first “long job”, which is to say he’ll be gone for almost a month. Betty can’t stop her body from hugging him goodbye. 

His body against hers is stiff at first, and then after a second, the tension between his shoulders melts, and the straightness in his arms give way to a true embrace. It’s a wonderful feeling. Just by the way his body holds her, Betty’s sure he’s enjoying this moment together. 

Yet even in that moment, she’s doubtful he would have ever initiated a hug on his own.

She misses him terribly, even though they see each other every day.Though Betty talks to Veronica over the holo regularly, she has never missed her if they go awhile between "seeing" each other. With Jughead, it's different. She can't smell him, can't feel the warmth that his body naturally radiates. He looks different too, not as happy. She tries to convince herself it’s the long hours.

While he’s away, their marriage certificate arrives in the mail. It’s an automatically generated item. 

It doesn’t serve any real legal purpose, they were considered husband and wife the minute Jughead stepped into the apartment, but still it feels strange to see it, framed and ready to be hung if they so choose.

Every couple Betty knows has received this certificate long after they’ve entered sexual relationship together. It feels so backwards to receive this when they haven’t even kissed, never mind sex. (Betty wonders if Jughead just doesn’t want sex, but what she hears sometimes in the shower seems to contradict that). 

Betty feels like crying till she hears her mother in her head. Cold and distant like always, “Stiff upper lip Elizabeth.” She takes a deep breath instead.

Betty tries putting it in the living room at first, but it feels too ostentatious. Then she places it in her room, but that doesn’t seem right either. Like she’s embarrassed of their marriage, somehow. 

Finally she places it on Jughead’s bed. Where he can see it when he first comes in. He can decide what to do with it. 

When Jughead returns home, he hugs her, and then surprises her by pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

He’s never declared his intent like that before. Betty was always under the impression that maybe they’d remain roommates/friends forever, if it was up to him.

He pulls away after the top of head kiss, as if he went too far. Betty presses her lips to his, in reassurance at first, but it quickly turns to passion, his tongue swiping into her mouth, and her hips pressed into his. 

Neither of them know what they’re doing of course, but no one does the first time, so Betty doesn’t mind, caught up instead in the fact that his body heat is becoming their body heat. 

Betty doesn’t even realize that they’re moving as they’re kissing, till Jughead’s door flies open behind her and he flings her onto the bed.

“Ow!” she exclaims, the sharp metal edge of the marriage certificate frame jolting her out of the all encompassing feeling of kissing.

“Shit,” Jughead says, grabbing at it, and at first she thinks he’s going to fling it aside without even looking. Instead, his eyes parse the words, his pupils widen. “Oh, oh.”

“It came,” Betty says. The words while you were gone implied. 

“I should have settled things before I left.” 

“Settled things?”

“Made it clear how I felt about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?” Betty asks, even though now, his hand solidly on hers, she thinks she already knows without words being spoken out loud.

“I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Betty laughs and pats the certificate “That’s good, all things considered.”

“I mean growing up with just a dad, and a heartbroken one at that, I really didn’t think I’d ever find love. I answered the questions only because I was given no choice. I entered the apartment that day, bound and determined to put up with you.”

Betty laughs at the phrasing. She can’t help it. Besides he looks so earnest when he says it. 

“I left answering the questions to the last possible week,” Betty says with a soft smile. “I couldn’t imagine giving up my autonomy.”

“And now you can?”

“Now I know I don’t have to.” In Betty’s childhood home there was a clear hierarchy, old fashioned and patriarchal. By the opinions Jughead stated about books and movies, he made it clear that they would have a very different home. 

Betty goes to kiss him again, then draws back, realizing she forgot to return the sentiment he so freely offered. She takes both his hands in hers and says, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you my love.”

There’s not a whole lot of talking after that. And if the frame to the certificate breaks as part of what happens next, that’s no one else's business.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Head Canons: 
> 
> Gladys ran away from FP to become a drug lord. Jughead became a bounty hunter because of Gladys. She’s the third criminal he catches. 
> 
> The framed marriage certificate ends up hanging in their bedroom, because they can be corny like that. They never fix the frame. Their kids know better than to ask.
> 
> Their daughters name is Lyra.
> 
> Jughead’s answers to his own questions are as follows: 
> 
> Two Burgers (no pickle), double order of fries, milkshake  
> Read. Clearly.  
> The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler
> 
> Betty's answers to her own questions are as follows:
> 
> Lots of vanilla syrup, lots of milk  
> A solid yes, after a pause.  
> Louisa May Alcott
> 
> I'm so grateful for any/all feedback


End file.
